


Hush, Boy

by DxityDoo



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien dies, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Gabriel Agreste’s A+ Parenting, Gets a lil meta at one point?, Hurt No Comfort, Internal Monologue, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, they don’t know who HawkMoth is tho, whole lotta ouch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 20:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21124430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DxityDoo/pseuds/DxityDoo
Summary: How poetic it all was.How poetic that it should start and end with a simple black umbrella.How cruel.





	Hush, Boy

How poetic it all was. 

How poetic that it should start and end with a simple black umbrella. 

How cruel. 

The weather hadn’t even had the decency to be miserable. The sun had shone the whole ceremony, vibrant golden rays lancing through the crowd as his coffin was lowered into the grave—not even the way he’d wanted it. 

She’d asked him once. “Cremation or burial?” She’d asked. He’d only flashed her his signature smirk. 

“What do you think?” 

“I think…” she paused. “A rich boy like you? You’d have a flashy coffin for sure.”

He shuddered. 

“Nope. Not for this cat. I couldn’t bear the idea of being trapped like that.” He leaned back on his hands, turning his face towards the moon. “I’d much rather be ashes, free to drift wherever I please.” 

Silence fell between them. They could both sense the mood had changed. 

“Well, let’s hope we never have to worry about it.”

Even in death, his father controlled him. 

Marinette adjusted her hold on the umbrella. It hung by her side, closed and bone dry. She didn’t know why she’d brought it, only that it hadn’t felt right to leave it where she’d propped it against her bed, underneath her board of posters of  _ him.  _ As though having the two nearby her bed would bring him closer to her. Well, she thought bitterly, in a way, it had. 

Her eyes were dry as she watched the dirt cover the only boy she’d ever loved. It still didn’t feel real. As though, once this was all over, she’d go back to school and he’d be there, winking at her as he had started doing since they’d found out each other’s identities. As though, the akuma alarm would sound and the two of them would scramble for an excuse to leave and then she’d meet him on the roof, as he greeted her with his latest godawful pun and that familiar smirk.

The sound of metal grating on metal pierced through Marinette’s thoughts. Her head snapped towards the noise, automatically tensing, years of superhero instincts keeping her sharp, but it was just one of the gravediggers losing his grip on his shovel and letting it chink against the metal detailing on the coffin.

Marinette let a small smile spread across her face at her reaction and leaned to her side to tell him about it—he’d get a laugh out of it, she knew. 

But there was only air beside her.

She’d gotten used to his familiar presence: his sturdy hand brushing her own as they walked; his gentle smile when he thought she wasn’t looking; his terrible puns; his new habit of running his fingers through his perfect hair to create a much less perfect look. 

It hit her then. She’d known it for weeks now but it wasn’t until now that she started to believe it.

She felt a sudden coldness on her cheek. A drop, then two, then ten. Finally, the heavens got the message. 

She clutched the umbrella closer to her chest, watching herself, as though she were someone else, as she opened it and held it over her head. 

The rain falling down her face didn’t stop. Not entirely.

She made no effort to wipe the drops away.

If  _ he _ was here, they wouldn’t have even landed. He would’ve wiped them away before she could process them being there.

But he wasn’t here.

He was gone.

She was alone.

Oh, how poetic it all was.

How very  _ circular.  _ What a wonderful time a literary analyst would have with this story. She could see it now: the new classic, the Tragic Tales of A Ladybug and Her Cat. A bestseller. The number one favourite book that year.

‘It made me cry!’ One review would claim.

‘Touching and moving in a way only good literature can be,’ another would say.

‘Over-emotional and unrealistic,’ said a third.

None of them could see it. None of them saw how his friends cried. None of them saw how his father’s mask of cold indifference had finally cracked. None of them saw the chasm he’d left behind.

None of them saw the splinters of her heart.

Marinette didn’t notice the butterfly desperately fluttering towards her.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song Little Game by Benny which I was listening to while writing.
> 
> Welp that’s all from me, lads. Hope you enjoyed this pain. 
> 
> I remembered the first scene when Marinette starts crushing on Adrien with the umbrella and we’ve recently been doing circular narratives in English so why not combine them? 
> 
> I’m sure this has already been done once before but here’s my take on it.
> 
> It hurt me so I hope it hurts you too (in the nicest possible way lol).


End file.
